


just let me know (I'll be on the floor)

by ratsauce



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: (the following tags are just slight), ALL THE GOOD STUFF, Aftercare, BDSM, Blow Jobs, Breathplay, Canon Compliant, Cock Warming, Collared Harry, Collars, Deepthroating, Desperation Play, Dom Niall, Dom/sub, Edging, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Foot Fetish, Hand Feeding, Hand Jobs, Humiliation, Kneeling, M/M, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Power Dynamics, Pre-Negotiated Kink, Safe Sane and Consensual, Shower Sex, Showers, Spanking, Sub Harry, Subspace, collaring, gagging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-01
Updated: 2018-08-01
Packaged: 2019-06-17 17:06:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15466071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ratsauce/pseuds/ratsauce
Summary: Niall and Harry took it for granted how hard it would be to get together now that they aren’t touring as one act, but they and make it work. And, sure, they’d dropped little quickies in here and there, but a valuable part of their dynamic had been missing, the part where Harry ishisHarry has the freedom to do and say whatever he wants when they're on stage or somewhere where cameras are, but once they're home, Harry is Niall's, completely. He doesn’t move, speak or eat without Niall’s permission, and they love it. They’re sure to settle back into their dynamic as soon as possible.





	just let me know (I'll be on the floor)

**Author's Note:**

> This got out of hand and idek how. Inspired by that [one video of Niall calling Harry pet](https://www.instagram.com/p/BjanXbsFOqj/?). At first I thought the use of “pet” was a D/s thing but I just recently found out that it means sweetheart too so YOU KNOW I had to kill two birds with one stone bc I've wanted to write something with that word since I saw the video.  
> This fic's point of interest is tiny Doms/big subs bc my first Dom was like half a foot shorter than me and DAMN could that kid work- Anyway.  
> I almost gave myself a stroke trying to get the dates right and eventually I just gave up, kinda.

They'd planned their tours together, trying to align the venues and breaks so that they could meet up and visit each other's shows. Once they started, though, they realised that all that wouldn’t really be possible. They had both assumed they’d have more free time between shows, but that hadn’t been the case. There were rehearsals, interviews, get-togethers with friends and family, and meetings with management that took up their time, and as a result they’ve been playing a bit of tag since the beginning of the tours. They were frequently on the same continent, but never in the same city or even country long enough to properly catch up. One of them would have sneak off and hop on a flight, only to be able to see the other for half a day, at most, which came mostly in the form of watching each other’s shows from V.I.P. boxes and meeting briefly after fans are cleared from backstage.

The only substantial plan they’d made was for the break they had starting the twelfth of May, where they’d have a week and a half to themselves before Harry would have to start touring again. They’d arranged to stay at Harry’s London house until he went back to work on the twenty-third, at which point Niall would go with him and follow he and his team around until the first of June, when he’d have to go back to his own tour. It’s a pretty well thought out plan, and they had been counting the days down from the start of their respective tours.

They really took it for granted how hard it would be to get together now that they aren’t touring with each other as one act, but they take it one step at a time and make it work. They’d made sure to drop little quickies in here and there over the last two months, of course, but a valuable part of their dynamic had been missing because of their hectic schedules.

When Niall isn’t with him, Harry has the freedom to do and say whatever he wants. When he’s on stage or somewhere where cameras are, he can be _Harry Styles, the Performer_ , but once they're home, Harry is Niall's. He’s _property_. He doesn’t move, speak or eat without Niall’s permission. It’s a dynamic that they’ve come to love and depend on, Harry especially, but because they haven’t had time, they haven’t played like that in a while. They were sure to make arrangements to amend that as soon as possible.

 

Niall left Portugal on the twelfth at midnight local time, as soon as his show was over, before suffering through the four hour flight to London. He let himself into the house and promptly passed out in his and Harry’s bed from exhaustion. He woke up what felt like five minutes later to Harry gently taking his trainers off his feet and pulling yesterday’s clothes off his tired body, before the man stripped himself and got into bed beside him.

They had wasted the whole day on the thirteenth, the two of them staying asleep until about fifteen hours. Even when they had finally woken up, they’d stayed in bed, curled around each other and snogging with a desperation akin to men having their first drink of water in days. It’s pretty similar, the thirst they have for each other.

They’d discussed what they would do for the rest of the week around mouthfuls of take out, when their growling stomachs had been too loud to ignore. Only then had they moved from their bed to the living room, sitting in their settee in only their pants. They had no actual ideas on what to do outside of visiting Harry’s family, and Niall was blissful in the fact that for once in several days they don’t _have_ to do anything.

Later on in the night, when they were settled in to go back to sleep, Harry had requested that they start playing as soon as they woke the next morning. Niall had agreed happily, reaching for Harry’s [chain](https://img.etsystatic.com/il/e9cd20/715835499/il_570xN.715835499_4cte.jpg?version=1) where he’d set it on the dresser at some point during the day and clasping it around his pale, pretty neck. The miniature bell had fallen into the dip between his collar bones and it tinkled when he moved to press a kiss to the side of Niall’s mouth. They outlined the rules with each other, how long the scene would last for and the basics of what it would entail, and when they were both satisfied they allowed themselves to continue getting their well-deserved rest.

 

Niall feels it the moment Harry starts waking up, the subtle arch of his back against Niall’s front accompanied by the sound of his bell and a quiet groan. Niall himself has been up for almost half hour, unable to shut his mind off now that he’s sufficiently rested. He opens his eyes but doesn’t say anything, allowing Harry to rouse on his own, or go back to sleep if he wants. He’s an hour early, after all, and Niall knows because of how many times he’s checked his phone, keeping tabs on the time.

The younger man’s lanky body twists a bit and he sighs, one of his big hands coming down under the blanket to rest over Niall’s arm where it’s draped across his chest. He threads their fingers together and squeezes his hand.

“You can speak, _pet_.” Niall instructs, his voice rough from lack of use.

Harry thanks him quietly before grumbling out, “Good morning, sir.” He shifts slightly against Niall’s body again and Niall looks down at him. “Did you sleep well?”

“I did, my dear. And you?”

Harry hums, “Very well,” before he yawns, arching his back again and letting go of Niall to extend his arms above his head in a pseudo-stretch.

Niall presses a kiss to the back of Harry’s head, mused hair tickling his nose, and with a contented sigh he asks, “It’s just half-past nine, do you want to lie here, maybe get some more sleep, or d’you wanna start the day?”

“Let’s start, Sir, please?” Harry asks politely, and Niall hums his assent and gives him one last peck at the nape of his neck. He pulls the blanket off their bodies, standing and stretching his arms above his head before reaching out for Harry. Harry takes the hand offered to him and stands as well, following wordlessly when Niall pulls him to the bathroom.

They brush their teeth together, side by side at their sink. The bell at Harry’s throat is noisy as he moves around, serving as a constant reminder of its presence. When they’re done, Niall holds Harry by the back of his neck and leads him to the shower, allowing him to step in ahead of him. He slides the glass door closed behind them and turns on the water, adjusting the temperature so that it’s just cold enough to wake them up.

Harry twirls slowly under the spray of the shower to get his body and hair wet, and Niall smiles as he faces him. He reaches for their almost-empty bottle of shower gel and opens it, squirting a good amount into his palm before telling Harry, “Gonna wash you now.”

Harry steps closer in response, allowing Niall to rub his hands over his neck and chest and coat his upper body in suds. Gesturing for Harry to turn around, Niall uses more gel and rubs over the broad, freckled shoulders and down the smooth plane of his back, pressing his fingers into his muscles and making the younger man shudder. He pushes at Harry’s elbows to get him to raise his arms before he scratches lightly over the hairy pits of his arm, to get Harry squirming. He slides his hands down his sides, settling on his hips briefly before his hands come around to Harry’s bum. When he slides a hand between Harry’s arse cheeks, rubbing soap over his hole and pressing in just slightly with the tip of a finger, Harry makes a soft noise.

“Be quiet for me again, okay?” Niall orders gently, and Harry nods, dropping his head to hang between his shoulders as his hands hang by his sides.

“Good,” he praises, and rubs over Harry’s arse cheeks and the tops of his thighs, bending over to get his legs and calves. When Niall stands up straight, he gets more soap on his hands before he brings his them back around to Harry’s front, smoothing them over his stomach and going downwards to his cock and the thick patch of hair at its base. He’s already half-hard, chubbed up against his leg. Harry’s whole body twitches when Niall runs his hand over him, soaping up his length while he presses his front to Harry’s back. He cups Harry’s balls, rolling them around on his palm and soaping them up as well.

He grabs the shampoo next, lathering Harry’s wet hair and scrubbing at his scalp. Running his fingers through the thick strands, he pulls at the few knots he finds before pushing it away from his face to keep the suds out his eyes.

When he’s finished and satisfied that his boy is clean, he grabs for the shower head and tips to hold it over his head, using his hand to shield his eyes as he washes his hair. Harry tilts his head back without being asked and allows his eyes to slip shut as the cool water runs down his neck and shoulder. He directs the spray at his body, washing the rest of the suds off him and down the drain.

When he turns Harry with a hand on his shoulder to wash his front, he gets hit in the hip with Harry’s cock where it’s standing out from his body. It bobs at the contact and when Niall looks up at Harry’s face, he’s got a far-away look in his eyes that he gets when he feels well-taken care of. Niall washes the last of the suds off him quickly and puts the shower head back in its holder above them before he leans forward- he can’t really help it- and brings his lips to Harry’s. The bigger man is already hunched, trying subconsciously to make himself smaller than Niall, but he bends lower to connect their lips. He exhales loudly into Niall’s mouth when he takes his prick into his hand again, curling his fingers fully around its girth as he feels the familiar heat and weight of it. He jerks him slowly and one of Harry’s hands comes up, his fingers gripping onto Niall’s left bicep as the muscles bulge with the movement of his hand.

Niall inhales sharply before tightening the hand around Harry’s prick, using the other to push his at his chest roughly so he stumbles backward, his body colliding with the cold tile wall. He makes a winded sound when his back hits it and his eyes, which had remained closed after Niall had finished washing him, fly open when he realises his mistake.

“You don’t touch me, Harry. You _know_ that.” Niall hisses, crowding him up against the wall. Harry’s eyes drop to Niall’s chest out of shame. Niall scoffs, trailing the hand he has on his chest up to his neck, resting his palm flat over his throat and pressing his fingers into the sides, right up under his jaw. Harry exhales through his nose when his head is forced back a bit, but he keeps his eyes down even when his back arches out the tiniest bit.

“I know you know what to do.” Niall whispers, feeling Harry’s throat work as he struggles to keep still. “My perfect boy,”

Harry nods as far as he can with Niall’s hand still restricting his movement. Niall watches his mouth as he starts dragging his other hand up and down around Harry’s length slowly, just to see and hear the moment his breath hitches. The pull is just this side of rough, wet but not _slick_ , but the flesh kicks in his grip as it twitches.

“Slag,” Niall murmurs before speeding the movement of his hand, leaning in to suck Harry’s wet bottom lip into his mouth before stepping back again. The water starts pelting his back, but he pays it no mind as he starts choking Harry proper, applying a gentle but steady pressure to his windpipe to cut off his breath. His own prick begins to stir at the way Harry looks up at him with a surprised, almost frightened expression in his eyes. The necklace resting at the base of his throat tinkles when Harry’s body lurches forward, his eyes rolling back as he starts rocking his hips into Niall’s hand uncontrollably. Niall notices that he’s slid his hands behind his back, more than likely to stop from touching again. Niall loosens his grip, both on his cock and his neck, and Harry pulls in a gasping breath as his eyes meet Niall’s.

“Sir, may I come?” Harry gasps, his plead ending on a breathy whine as Niall’s palm comes up to glide through the slick dripping from his cockhead on an upstroke.

“No, you definitely may not,” Niall says sharply, pressing down hard against Harry’s throat again to hear him gasp as his air is cut off once more. Harry chokes around the sound and he squeezes his eyes shut tightly, but he doesn’t object, even as his hips continues to cant into Niall’s touch.  A desperate cry falls from his lips and Niall pulls back, then, watching fascinated when he bites into his own lip _hard_ as he’s ripped from the edge of his orgasm. He was about to fall over it, no matter what Niall said, and Niall can see that he’s relieved that he didn’t have to disappoint his Dom for a second time by coming against his orders.

“Colour?” Niall asks, frowning at how Harry has started shaking where he’s slumped against the wall, just barely holding himself up. His eyes are still closed and his tummy tenses as his red prick bobs on its own accord. God, he knows Harry loves this, being used and then just- left, left alone to overcome his own pleasure and bring himself down, but only when it’s part of the scene. Being denied- fuck, it gets him off harder than anything when, or if, he’s finally allowed release. It’s been more than a few times that Niall has fucked him, pounded into him _hard_ and used his body to get himself off, to just up and leave him on the bed or on the floor, leaking and desperate. Niall has played with his dick, gotten his hand around him when they’re in bed or in the loos at a label party and got him hard _just because_ , just to see the bulge of him in his pants, or jeans, or in his fancy fucking trousers.

Harry loves it, undoubtedly, but now, he’s so caught up in his head that he misses when Niall asks him for his colour a second time.

“Harry. Look at me,” Niall commands, letting out a relieved breath a second later when Harry’s blown pupils are revealed to him as he opens his eyes. He looks completely blissed out, his face flushed down to his neck and his bottom lip is bruised where he’s released it from between his teeth. Niall asks him for his colour again, bringing his hand up to cup his cheek gently and gazing into his hooded eyes. The skin is heated where Harry presses against his palm.

“Green, Sir.” He whispers with a pointed stare, kissing Niall’s thumb where it swipes over his bottom lip. He smiles toothily, his eyes still looking a bit misty, but he seems to be coming back to himself.

Niall nods curtly before pulling back, giving Harry one last wary glance before stepping fully under the spray. His cock is at half-mast but he doesn’t pay it nor Harry any mind as he instead puts his focus in washing himself, so he can get them out the shower. Harry watches as he moves, bringing his hand up to play with the necklace as he takes a few deep, steadying breaths.

 

Niall decides to take it easy on him after they get out, instead of continuing to edge him the way he wanted to. He towels them both off, putting on a pair of soft, black joggers before dressing Harry in a matching light grey one with no pants underneath so he can clearly see where he’s half-hard. Harry asks for the big [collar](https://img.etsystatic.com/il/a4643a/1145442109/il_570xN.1145442109_8k71.jpg?version=0), the one they use when he wants to be deep in his headspace and remain there for a while. Niall gets it and puts it on him, taking off the little silver necklace and dropping it in one of the pockets on Harry’s sweats before handing Harry one of the pillows off the bed and kissing his cheeks.

He takes him to the kitchen, instructing him to kneel by him while he cooks by snapping his fingers and pointing to the floor, so the man knows to drop the pillow and stay on it. Harry stays on his knees as Niall does up his full Irish, following him to the table him on his hands and knees with the pillow under his arm once he’s done. Niall seats himself in a chair and puts the full plate on the table while Harry resettles on the pillow beside him, leaning closer when Niall brings his hand to his mouth. He keeps his own hands behind his back while he allows Niall to feed him bits the bread, sausage, bacon, tomato and pudding off his plate until he’s full and turning away from Niall’s hand. Once Niall assesses that he’s actually had an adequate amount and gets him to drink half of the cup of orange juice he holds to his head, he digs into what’s left of his breakfast and finishes it.

Niall takes him to the lounge when they’re done and all the pots and dishes are in the dishwasher. Picking up the remote from the arm of the settee, he turns the telly on and falls against the cushions, before pointing to the floor to the left of his feet and telling Harry to sit. As he searches through Netflix for a movie that Harry was ranting about a few days ago, he sees Harry out of the corner of his eye taking his pillow and lying it on the ground before crawling to it, planting his knees against it and settling with his bum on his calves.

“ _Sit_ , I said,” Niall chides, and Harry looks up at him and makes a soft sound of recognition before rearranging his position and plopping his bum on the pillow instead, leaning his back against the base of the settee. Niall hums, satisfied, before he relaxes into his own position, sliding a hand into Harry’s damp hair and making the man start just a bit from the unexpected touch.

The film starts, turning out to be an action-type thing with a brooding main character, and Niall can admit that it’s quite good. He had originally only put it on for Harry’s sake, but he starts paying attention to and enjoying it, which is more than he can say for Harry himself. Despite the fact that the film was Harry’s idea, the man isn’t paying it much mind to it where he’s sat on the floor. He keeps shifting in a way that tells Niall he’s trying to find a comfortable position, hunching his shoulders forward one minute and sitting up stock-straight a next, crossing and uncrossing his legs. It’s a little unnerving but so _Harry_ , and Niall doesn’t reprimand him for it. In fact, Niall is content with ignoring him and watching the film, until Harry decides to speak at about twenty minutes in.

“Can I go to the loo?”

Niall looks away from the telly and raises an impertinent eyebrow at him, stilling his hand where he was still playing around in Harry’s hair. “Do you _need_ to go to the loo?” He asks, not missing the slight shudder that shakes Harry’s shoulders at his tone.

His voice comes out lower, rougher, when he answers, “No.”

“No, who?” Niall sneers, pulling slightly at Harry’s hair.

A small gasp leaves his lips and he arches up, whimpering out, “No, _Sir_.”

“Good, then y’have y’r answer.” Niall says, soothing his fingers over Harry’s scalp and redirecting his attention to the movie where the main character is chasing a bearded man across a busy roadway.

Harry isn’t a bad sub, nor does he do insolent things or act bratty, and Niall is so grateful for that fact, but Harry’s penchant for being denied makes him do some pretty questionable things, like looking up at Niall with mock desperation and saying, “Please, Ni?”

“Harry!” Niall snaps, and the man beneath him flinches a bit, his eyes widening. “I already told you no. Do not let me hear another sound from you unless it’s to word out.”

He gives Harry a pointed glare before looking away. He doesn’t really need to worry about Harry needing to safeword because he _knows_ he doesn’t need to go that badly, if he does any at all. He hasn’t had that much to drink, the half glass of juice couldn’t be making him as desperate as he’s trying to seem. He’s clearly trying to get Niall’s attention, doing all he can to make sure he’s not ignored. Niall decides then that he’s going to ignore him _completely_ in retort: stop touching him, stop speaking to him- just to see how he’s going to react. While doing the basic run-down of the scene last night, Harry had asked Niall to keep the details to himself, wanting to be caught off guard a bit when the actually start playing. The only course of action they had decided on was that Harry would have been kept on edge, and that he would remain collared all day and would adhere to the associated rules of total power exchange: no touching or moving without Niall’s permission, no speaking unless he needs to. The rest was up to Niall and he planned to use that to his advantage.

He knew from before Harry woke up that he wanted to get his dick in Harry’s mouth, but he wasn’t sure how to segway into it. Now, though, he’s finding the perfect opportunity as Harry whines when the hand leaves his head. It’s quiet, almost indiscernible, but Niall can tell that he’s going to start squirming soon. He’s proved right when not even five minutes later, Harry starts shifting again, curling his fingers into the soft memory foam of the pillow under him. He’s watching Niall, throwing him quick glances over his shoulder, and his whole hand twitches when he notices Niall deliberately ignoring him. He stills for maybe three seconds before he’s back it, fucking around with the navy pillowcase and pulling at it. He bumps into Niall’s foot when he jerks his hand, but Niall not even so much as looks at him. Eventually Harry is moving his _entire_ body, twisting around, rubbing at his bare arms and toying with his collar, fingering the smooth, cool metal of the buckle in a way that would seem subconscious if Niall didn’t know him as well as he does. All the while Niall continues to watch the telly, even if he’s not fully committed, only sparing looks down at his boy when he’s sure he won’t be caught.

It’s not until he starts flicking his nail against the buckle so it makes noise that Niall decides to take action. He pauses the film moves his hand back into Harry’s hair, delighting in the way Harry’s back turns into a rigid line against the settee and all his movements cease. The hand that was toying with his collar drops into his lap, but he doesn’t dare to look up at Niall as he feels around the silky strands with the tips of his fingers.

"Why the _fuck_ are you movin’ so much, boy?" Niall rasps quietly, his soft tone a sharp contrast to the harsh words. Harry’s throat works as he swallows audibly, shifting the collar where it’s wrapped smugly around it, his eyes trained at some spot ahead of him. And then he makes a soft keening sound.

Niall nods to himself, makes a _hmph_ in the back of his throat. Harry’s shoulders tense and his eyes go wide where he’s still looking ahead. Niall sees him take his bottom lip between his teeth as he cards his fingers through the soft tresses of Harry’s hair.

“Okay.” Niall smiles, before tightening his fist around Harry’s hair, pulling the locks sharply and forcing Harry's head back. His blown-out eyes meet Niall's as his face screws up in pain, and he whimpers when Niall jerks his head again.

"My poor boy, maybe y'need somethin' to put in yer mouth to keep you from makin' those sounds you're so fond of?"

Niall _drags_ Harry by his hair, forcing him up and over towards him. Harry manages not to make a sound by biting down hard into his lip, even when his eyes start watering. He lets Niall pull him closer, twisting his body the way Niall wants until he's kneeling between his thighs. He hisses out a breath when Niall pulls his head up so their eyes meet. Niall's blue ones are steely and cold, lacking the usual compassion and Harry shakes with a full-body tremor.

He keeps his fingers tight in his hair even as he brings another hand to the waistband of his sweats, pressing his back into the settee so he can get the leverage to ease his hips up and pull it down to mid-way his thigh. As his soft prick is exposed, Harry’s gaze drops to it before he looks up at Niall with what looks like a challenge in his eyes. Niall scowls and pulls Harry forward, forcing his face against his prick. He whines softly and frowns up at Niall and puffing out hot breaths over him, before Niall turns his head so his nose and mouth are pressed into his balls and the base of his length, effectively cutting off his breath. Harry makes a startled sound, hands twitching at his sides like he wants to push Niall away.

“Hands behind you!” Niall shouts, and Harry obeys immediately, holding onto his elbows behind him with. Niall pulls his head back when he starts struggling and allows him to take a deep, shuddering breath. His eyes are wet, brimming with unshed tears from the pain of Niall still holding his hair tightly in his fist, so he lets him go. Harry’s body slumps forward but he rights himself quickly, just managing not to fall back into Niall’s lap.

“Good,” Niall mumbles, swiping a thumb over Harry’s flushed cheeks. He looks down, between Harry’s thighs, and finds him tenting his joggers obscenely, his cock leaking a spot of wet against the grey fabric and turning it darker. Niall lifts his foot slowly to Harry’s crotch, running his toes over his thigh before resting the arch of it heavily over his hard dick, and Harry sucks in a breath at the pressure.

“What’s your colour, pet?” he inquires, and Harry blinks blearily at the question before rasping out _green_ , hips twitching with the urge of fucking against Niall’s foot.

“Open, then,” Niall coaxes, swiping a finger against the corner of his mouth before Harry drops his jaw open, pink tongue sticking out. Niall stifles a groan at the visual and picks up his dick, which is still soft- Niall has his impeccable self-control to thank for that- and holds it to Harry’s mouth. Harry shuffles forward on his knees, eyes cast down obediently, but he doesn’t try to take him inside. Niall twitches minutely in his hand as he watches the flutter of Harry’s eyelashes and the sharp cut of his cheek bones. God, he’s so _pretty_.

It’s only when Niall shifts his hips forward that Harry sucks Niall’s cock further into his mouth, sighing through his nose at the taste of him. Niall thumbs along Harry’s cheek so he can feel where he’s sliding deeper, stopping once a little over half of his cock is inside. When a few seconds pass and Niall doesn’t give the order to start sucking, though, Harry shoots Niall a confused look.

“Said I was givin’ you something to do with yer mouth. Nothin’ more, nothing less.” Niall tells him, offering him one last look before picking up the remote again, unpausing his film. There’s just under ten minutes left and he wonders if Harry can wait that long, if _he_ can wait that long, without needing more. He decides to wait and see as he relaxes against the settee cushions once more and pretends to watch the closing moments of the film.

When there’s eight minutes to go, Harry shuffles a bit on his knees and huffs out through his nose. Six minutes to go, his hands twitch behind his back before he unhooks them, clasping them at the small of his back instead. Five minutes left, Harry’s breathing starts picking up and he’s near panting, looking up at Niall headily. Four minutes left, the actual movie finishes and the credits start rolling, and Harry whines when Niall makes no move to stop it. Three minutes, Harry’s tonguing lightly at the underside of Niall’s cock to get him hard, and it’s working.

Once the credits finish and the room goes quiet, Harry’s breathing the only discernible sound, Niall looks down at his boy. Harry whines around his mouthful of cock, giving Niall a pleading look. Niall threads his fingers through Harry’s hair again, pulling a bit to get him to come off him. He does so with a wet _pop_ , Niall’s semi falling free from his lips.

“Get your chain out, keep it in your hand.” Niall orders, and Harry’s face brightens as he recognises what Niall wants of him. He unclasps his hands from behind him and brings a shaky hand to his side, taking the chain out his pocket and holding it in his fist and watching Niall with bright eyes.

“Wha’d’you do if you need t’safeword and yer mouth is occupied?”

“I’m supposed to throw the chain.” Harry beams, looking _so_ excited to have his throat fucked until he can’t speak. Niall nods, biting his lip to hide the fond smile. Harry sticks his tongue out and looks up at Niall, his eyes gone wide and glassy from anticipation.

Niall rolls his eyes like he’s being bothered before he sighs, “Go ‘head, slut, suck me.”

Harry starts before Niall has finished his sentence, dipping his head and taking Niall back into his mouth, bobbing his head to work Niall to full hardness. Niall swells on his tongue, finally allowing himself to indulge in the wet warmth of his boy’s mouth. Harry keeps his eyes on him as he pushes down, taking Niall’s cock head into his throat.

“Harry,” Niall warns, giving Harry’s hair a gentle tug, “Don’ be greedy.”

Harry makes an apologetic sound and pulls up, squeezing his eyes shut as his cheeks begin to colour with embarrassment. He stops to lick at Niall’s slit before sucking him back inside, hollowing his cheeks around him and running his tongue over the ridge of his head.

“Use your hands,” Niall groans, lifting his hips to fuck into Harry’s mouth a bit. Harry brings his right hand up to Niall’s cock, curling his fingers around what doesn’t fit in his mouth. He allows the spit in his mouth to gather and drip down over Niall’s shaft, slicking the way for him to stroke over what’s in his hand, twisting his wrist when his fingers meet his lips. Niall is now steadily fucking Harry’s mouth, rolling his dick head over Harry’s tongue with little thrusts and pushing lightly at his throat: a taste of what’s to come. Harry takes it in stride, eventually dropping his hand away to give Niall more space to fuck up into his throat.

Harry’s eyes roll over when Niall starts going harder, his throat making these obscene sounds as Niall’s cock head hits it over and over again. He outright moans when his tip slides deeper, gagging around it when Niall uses the hand on his head to hold him down.

“Hold it. Come on,” Niall grinds out, pushing him down more. Harry chokes around his mouthful, his eyes wild as the tears in his eyes overflow, leaking out. “Hold it, boy!”

Harry’s throat spasms, fat tears rolling down his ruddy cheeks. Niall holds him down harder until Harry stops struggling, suddenly going almost scarily limp in his hold. Years ago, Niall would have been terrified that he’d broken him, but now, he knows that being choked on his cock has got Harry’s mind soft and syrupy-slow, made his body lax the way he wants it. Now, when Harry looks up with a blank, unfocused look in his eyes even as his throat continues fluttering around him, Niall doesn’t panic. He pulls out immediately, Harry sucking in a wet gasp when his mouth is free, and he slides down onto the floor beside Harry to ease him down to lie on the floor.

Niall likes to give himself credit for thinking ahead. Grabbing a long pillow from their bed earlier was fucking _genius_ , because when Harry slumps, he lands sprawled on it, his face and torso cushioned perfectly. He’s gotten a fair amount of carpet burn from this position before, and it hadn’t been fun for either of them after. Now, though, he’s safe from it and Niall is proud of himself for having foresight.

Harry’s still out of it, though, body limp and half of his face smushed into the pillow. The only sign that’s he’s still alive is the quick, inconsistent sound of his breathing and the rising and falling of his back. Niall drags Harry’s trackies off his legs and repositions him how he wants him, turning him fully onto his stomach and tucking his legs up under him so his hips are tilted up and his pert bum is on display. He reaches for the travel bottle of lube he had slipped into his own pocket, opening it and pouring a liberal amount over the fingers of his left hand before smoothing them between Harry’s arse cheeks, smearing the slick over his entrance. Harry chokes on a moan when Niall slips a finger inside him, twisting it and feeling against his warm, smooth walls.

He whispers an apology at the groan Harry lets out as he presses in a second finger, stilling to give him a moment. When Harry starts rocking onto his hand he resumes, fucking his fingers into him more slowly. The man in turn relaxes, the tension in his back seeping away and his hole unclenching. Niall adds a third finger soon after, carefully avoiding his prostate as he brings his other hand up to Harry’s hip, squeezing in an attempt to ground him. Harry is moaning into the pillow quietly with every curl of his fingers now that he’s coming back to himself a bit, rutting his hips down against the pillow and trying to get himself off. Niall allows it, for now, fucking his fingers into him deeper to hear him whimper.

When he feels Harry’s ready he slides his fingers out, leaning down to bite at Harry’s arse cheek lightly as he gets a hand on himself. He works over his cock with the residual slick on his fingers, groaning against Harry’s bum and digging his teeth in a little harder at how good it feels. He straightens with a stuttered exhale and brings his wet cock Harry’s hole, drizzling an extra, precautionary bit of lube over where they’re touching.

“Don’t make a sound, unless it’s to safeword.” Niall reminds him, and that’s all the warning Harry gets before Niall’s cock breaches him. The arch of Harry’s spine deepens as Niall presses in, the man gargling around an overwhelmed sound. It always _aches_ on that first stroke in, deeply so and in a way that makes Harry’s throat close up, but they’ve discussed that Harry _likes_ when it hurts, when he’s sore afterwards. Harry prefers when they skimp on prep, when they use three fingers instead of the four that they probably should. It’s never too much for him, the stretch just this side of painful, but _so_ perfect.

Niall stops half-way and watches where his cock is splitting him open with rapt fascination, using a hand to spread Harry’s cheeks further open. Harry’s body gives a weak flutter around him as he allows him a few seconds to adjust before he draws his hips back, fucking back in on a long push until he bottoms out.

“ _God_ ,” Harry strains out, shuddering when Niall repeats the action. He lets out a startled cry when Niall brings his hand down harshly on his bum, leaving it on him to dig his nails into the flesh.

“H,” He warns roughly, and Harry bites down on the bit of pillow near his mouth to stop himself from letting out anymore sounds. Niall starts fucking into him proper as he finds his rhythm, holding on to Harry’s hips to pull him back to meet his thrusts. Harry looks like he’s not even breathing, all his sounds stuck in his throat where his face is pressed against the pillow as he struggles to keep quiet. He grabs two handfuls of the pillowcase and his back bows inwards when Niall’s hips snap forward, his body squeezing _tight_ around him.

Niall groans and slows down before he fucking loses it, Harry’s whole body wracked with a powerful shudder when he switches from thrusting to circling his hips and grinding his cock into Harry deeply. “Colour?”

Harry’s whole body is wracked with a shudder, and his mouth opens around a silent scream before he gasps out, “Green.” He pushes back against Niall frantically, trying to get him to move, and he near bites through his lip when Niall acquiesces, driving his hips forward again. Harry’s body clenches with every push in, breathing out harshly like the breaths are being fucked right out of him. Harry sobs on a curse when Niall starts going faster, pushing his face fully into the pillow to muffle it, but he knows he’s failed when Niall’s hand comes down on his arse cheek again.

“Harry, I told you to keep quiet.” He scolds, but he only pounds in harder, slapping his hips into Harry’s arse. He wants to hear Harry, of course he does. He loves the sounds he makes when he’s getting dicked down more than music, more than touring, more than most things in his life. Harry is loud on a good day, but in this particular position, when Niall is balls deep in him and fucking him clear through whatever surface he’s got him on, he’s near _deafening_ , and he can’t even help it. He’s told Niall that he can feel his cock _everywhere_ in this position, in his stomach, in his spot, against every wall, everywhere. Not screaming when he’s got him like that is a challenge, but being silent is damn near impossible, and they both know it. Niall telling Harry to keep quiet isn’t for him, but for _Harry._ Giving him something to do, something to put his dedication in always gets him especially deep into his headspace, and that’s the only aim Niall has for today. He has no real intention of punishing him when he does start letting the sounds slip, but he wants Harry to have gone all soft and sweet by the time he’s done with him, and this the best way to get him there.

As it is, Harry is slipping, eyes gone criss-crossed and foggy where he’s looking off in space while Niall fucks him senseless. He’s steadily moving away from Niall with every jerk of his body, so the man drags him back _hard_ onto his cock, holding him still and making him take it. Harry starts making these little hiccups, then, every time Niall’s cock slams into him, and his eyes squeeze shut tightly as his fists ball up by his face. Niall leans over him, propping himself up with his left hand and pressing his right into the centre of Harry’s back, boxing him in and forcing his upper body down against the pillow. Harry sucks in a harsh breath at the change in angle, pushing his bum back into the cradle of Niall’s hips desperately. Niall drives into him harder, keeping him pinned to the ground.

“Fuck,” Niall growls as his bad knee starts to ache, and he fucks in one last time before stopping and pulling out of Harry’s puffy hole. Harry twists his body to look at Niall with a puzzled, cloudy expression, but Niall only grabs the bottle of lube out the settee before moving to lie beside Harry on the floor. He uses the lube to slick his cock back up before folding his arms under his head, levelling Harry with an unimpressed look when he frowns over at him.

“Well? I’m not gunna fuck meself,” Niall looks down at his lap before looking back at Harry expectantly. “Come on, up y’get.”

Harry finally understands, scrambling up clumsily to climb into his lap. Niall has the sudden realisation that he hasn’t seen his boy’s cock since they got out the shower, and when he looks down at it, he finds him painfully hard, purpling near the head and leaking. The pillow must be ruined by his pre-fuck, if how wet he is is any indication.

Niall holds his own cock straight for Harry to sink down on and he groans when he does, the head popping back into the tight ring of muscles. Harry whimpers and stops, sucking in a breath before he drops down the rest of the way. He settles heavily in Niall’s lap with his legs framing his waist, gasping in another deep inhale with his head thrown back when Niall slides his hands up over his trembling thighs to settle on his hips.

“Go on, lemme hear you.” Niall finally allows, and Harry lets out a tinny moan when he raises himself up off Niall’s cock slowly to fall back down.

Harry drops his head to watch Niall’s flushed face, an unsure look crossing his features when he makes another quiet sound, but once he realises that Niall isn’t reprimanding him, that he can actually make noise, it’s like a dam breaks.

He starts grunting loudly with every drop down, begging Niall to fuck him _harder, please, faster_ with his words slurring together. His chest is flushed and heaving, his inked skin shiny with what could be precum, sweat, or drool, or all of them _together_ , and Niall watches him with hooded eyes while he presses his thumbs into his hipbones.

Niall pulls his feet up, steadying himself before he rocks his hips up, knocking Harry off balance a little as he starts fucking up into him. The angle has his cockhead pressing into Harry’s spot every other thrust now and Harry crumbles in Niall’s hold, allowing him to manhandle him as he brings his body down.

“Jesus _fuck_ , oh- _oh_ _,_ my G-God,” Harry cries, swallowing down a desperate squeal as Niall rabbits his hips into him. “Please- _Pleasepleasepleaseplease_.”

“What are you asking for?” Niall pants, fucking in over his spot again and making Harry eyes roll back in his head.

“Sir, I- fuck, _fuck_ , I need to,” Harry groans, frustrated with his failed attempts at articulating, before he gives up, reaching instead for one of Niall’s hands and bringing it to his cock, sobbing out in relief when Niall takes him into his hand and starts stroking over him.

“You wanna come, huh? My boy. Wanna get all messy for me?” Niall asks, and Harry cries out a distressed _yes_ that makes Niall’s prick twitch where it’s buried deep in him.

“Gotta get me off first,” Niall tells him, slowing his hand where he’s stroking over him, and Harry looks so relived at being allowed to come that he doesn’t even mind the condition. He just squeezes tight where he’s wrapped around his cock, bringing his hands down to toy with Niall’s nipples. Niall groans, well on his way to coming as he pebbles under Harry’s ministrations.

It’s when Harry starts shaking with the effort of holding off, babbling where he’s begging for his cum as he continues stroking lightly over his cock, that Niall starts hitting his peak. Fuck, Harry is so good it overwhelms him sometimes. It shocks him how perfect he is, how much he does to make him proud, _all_ the time. He tells Harry as much in a ramble, fucking up into Harry harsher as the pressure of his orgasm builds in his groin.

“God- _Harry_ ,” he moans, digging his nails into the skin he’s holding on to as he starts coming, thrusting in twice more before holding himself deep when he shoots inside Harry’s hole. As soon as Harry feels Niall’s cum in him, wet and hot, he can’t help but spill over Niall’s fist and his own stomach with a cry of his own, grinding down onto Niall’s still-spurting cock and riding out the waves of his own pleasure as his body tenses and un-tenses rhythmically. He collapses on Niall when he’s done, smearing his come all over the both of them and panting heavily into his ear.

“Babe, baby, you did so well. Fuck,” Niall says, prying his hand out where it got trapped between their bodies when Harry fell on him. It comes out dirty with Harry’s cum and he wipes it carelessly on the pillow beside him before hugging Harry against his chest. “I love you. I love you so much, pet. You did so fuckin’ well.”

Harry’s only response is a muffled whine into the crook of his neck, his lips and tongue wetting the skin there where he’s mouthing over him. Niall doesn’t expect much from him in terms of response, knowing that he’s deep in his subspace and the after effects of his orgasm and is unable to do much else than just lay there. He just continues telling Harry how good he is and how proud he is of him, rubbing circles over his back with his clean hand and feeling where his muscles have gone completely lax.

Niall's glad that he started working out enough that he could lift Harry fairly easily, because when he calls to him and tells him it’s time to get up, he gets a small _can’t_ as an answer, a full minute after. Niall only sighs, rolling Harry off him gently and unto the pillow before he gets to his feet. Harry’s face is completely slack and he’s drooling a bit, but he’s got stars in his eyes where he’s looking up at Niall, and it makes Niall smile breathlessly. When he bends down to pick Harry up, the man manages to help him a bit, sitting up as far as he can and looping an arm around Niall’s neck as he scoops him up bridal-style.

 

Harry starts coming to when Niall has gotten them both in their bath, soaking their tired muscles in the warm, scented bath water, and the first thing he seems to notice is how bare his neck is. He brings his hand up to where the collar had been wrapped around his throat for the last three or four hours, looking around for Niall until he realises the soft, warm thing he’s propped up against is the man in question. He cranes his neck to fix him with a sad pout, and Niall grins when he sees him.

“Welcome back t’ the land of the livin’, my love.” Niall says quietly, eyes trailing down over his face in an obvious bid on checking him over. Harry makes a questioning sound, wrapping his hand around his own throat and looking at Niall to try to get his point across.

“I took it off.” Niall tells him, understanding immediately. “Do you want it back when he we get out?”

Harry nods quickly, giving Niall a soft smile. Niall’s eyes flick down to his lips before he leans and kisses him, bringing his wet left hand to touch his cheek. Harry slides his eyes shut and slants their mouths together, moaning quietly against Niall when his hand slip down to his neck, serving as a gentle presence and nothing more. The kiss is unhurried and sweet, and when they pull back, Harry’s eyes are significantly clearer and oh-so bright. Niall pecks him one last time before stretching his right arm over to the closed toilet, and Harry sees two bottles of water, a new set of clothes and towels sitting on the cover.

Niall grabs one of the room-temperature waters and cracks the bottle open, and Harry suddenly realises how thirsty he is, squirming against Niall’s hairy chest.

“Here, have some of this for me.” Niall murmurs, holding the mouth of the bottle to Harry’s lips with one hand and keeping the other settled on his neck. Harry drinks happily, taking big mouthfuls to soothe his dry throat, and he pulls away when over three-quarters of it is done.

“Good boy,” Niall says, finishing the bottle himself before recorking it and dropping it on the floor beside the bath. Harry sighs contentedly when he’s done, sinking down into the water and resting his head against Niall’s shoulder.

“How’s your head, bub? I pulled y’r hair quite hard, di’n’t I?” Niall asks, trailing his hand down to his chest and then back up, warm water dripping off his fingers. Harry brings his own hand up to his damp hair, running his fingers through it and feeling over his scalp.

He shrugs and drops his hand back into the water again. “’s sore,” he mumbles, his voice is shot to shit with how thoroughly Niall fucked his mouth. “Good though.”

Niall laughs and presses a wet kiss to his cheek, sliding his hand over Harry’s tummy under the water. “Do you feel okay?”

“Yeah,” Harry answers immediately. He’s achy in his shoulders, his throat feels a bit raw and so does his arsehole, but he feels _amazing_ , all warm and safe and loved.

They stay there for a while, Niall washing over him with a cloth and getting him to drink one more bottle of water before they finally get out, dripping all over their mat. Niall dries himself off while Harry relieves himself into the bathwater as it swirls down the drain, and then he dries Harry with the other towel and wraps him in it to take him back to their attached bedroom, along with the last bottle of water.

Harry’s limping a little on the walk there, but he assures Niall that he’s perfectly fine as he puts him in an oversized, ratty T-shirt and pants. Niall tugs on a pair of boxers and takes Harry back to bed.

They stay wrapped in their blanket for the rest of the day, missing a pillow, but they barely notice it. The warm, fuzzy residual feeling of Harry’s subspace lingers, making him feel sleepy and clingy. Niall indulges him quite happily, kissing him all over his face and keeping him wrapped in his arms. He falls asleep after drinking the last of the water and going to urinate again, curling up with his back pressed to Niall’s chest and his hand in his.

Touring is great, of course it is, but nothing compares to being home with each other. Neither of them think about when it will end, or their eventual return to their work. They just stay wrapped in each other. Harry as Niall’s, and Niall as his.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Feel free to leave feedback, I'd love to hear what you have to say.  
> A couple things:  
> \+ Harry Styles most definitely likes having his throat fucked. Don't fight me on that.  
> \+ My mind has been screaming bottom!Louis so loudly that I physically ended up typing Louis’ name several times even though the fic has nothing to do with him.  
> \+ I deliberately avoided all talk of how the relationship started and all that. It's just to be taken at face value as an established relationship.  
> \+ Every time I write something I find an almost identical story and I feel like I'm someone's stealing shit. Ugh


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